


Sour(cream) Wolf

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Prompt:One of them baking (and failing?) for the other
Relationships: Cora Hale & Derek Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99
Collections: Fluff 2020: A Multifandom Fluff Meme





	Sour(cream) Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [angelgazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelgazing/pseuds/angelgazing) in the [Fluff2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Fluff2020) collection. 



All Derek wanted was to bake some cookies for Stiles, for him to nibble on once he came home.

He followed the recipe to the letter--okay, so he didn’t have salted butter so he used his regular butter and added salt, and maybe he didn’t have white chocolate so he used the dark one Stiles likes so much anyway, and yes, he left them in the oven slightly too long--but he doesn’t understand how he managed to fail that badly.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles says softly, grabbing the bowl and taking some of the raw dough to spread on Derek’s lips before licking it off him.

(Maybe a failure, but Derek does not complain if that’s his “punishment”.)

\----

Alright, so the cookies were a no go.

This, he cannot fail.

It’s almond flour, chocolate and eggs.

In the oven for 10 minutes.

And that’s it.

It shouldn’t be dark and lumpy, though. The picture looked vibrant and … yummy.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles says, barely restraining his laughter. “Did you, um.”

“What.”

“Oh my Sourwolf, did you crush those almonds yourself to make the flour?”

“... Maybe.”

“And, um, did you sift it?”

“Sift it.”

“Yeah. You know, to get only the flour and none of the chunks?”

“Um.”

“S’alright, you wild thing.” Stiles takes a spoon and the dish to the couch, sitting with his legs on Derek’s lap. “I’m sure it’s still good.”

(It’s not good, because the chunks give a bitterness. But Derek’s apology involves melted chocolate and tangled limbs, so. You know. Not too bad.)

\---

This time, Derek will not miss this.

Crushing the cookies? Done, and there is no need to sift anything since you don’t want flour but actual pieces.

Melting the butter, that he can do without burning the house down, thank you Lydia.

Beating the eggs and the mascarpone is a bit trickier, and the kitchen looks like a battlefield, but that’s for “Two Hours Later Derek”, not him right this moment.

Now, the baking itself.

The World Wide Web doesn’t seem to agree on the how and the how long, but Derek figures it out.

He is a smart wolf, fuck you very much.

Double the foil, water bath, and off it goes.

Why it ended like  [ this ](https://magnoliadays.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Sour-Cream-Cheesecake-Failure.jpg) , with some sort of message from the Underworld carved on its surface, Derek has no idea.

All he knows is that Stiles will not see this Nemeton Cheesecake.

(Stiles does see it, but he, oddly enough, has the decency not to mention it.

\---

Derek has given up on the idea of baking something for Stiles. 

He knows other ways to show his love to his Love, and he’ll use them instead.

It’s fine.

Derek didn’t need to try to emulate his father’s talent for baking for his mom.

That’s fine.

Cora takes one look at him during their weekly Skype session before shaking her head. “Spill.”

“Hm? What?”

“You have your ‘I failed and therefore should be doomed to eternal damnation’ face on, brother mine. So, there. Spill.”

Derek sighs. “I wanted to bake for Stiles, like Dad used to do for Mom, but I--the baking gene passed me up.”

Cora lets out a little snort of laughter before crooking one eyebrow. “I don’t remember a lot, but I have a feeling that Mom was always there to help him out,” she says thoughtfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure, but it’s just, you know--”

“A gut feeling,” they say together before smiling at each other.

“I’m telling you, Der’, try to bake with Stiles instead of for him. Maybe that’ll change things.”

“Maybe. Thanks, Cor’.”

\---

“What is this?”

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and kisses the side of his neck.

“What does it look like?”

“Like you want …,” Stiles replies, shuddering for effect on, “baking.”

Derek manages to turn in his arms, pulling Stiles closer between his spread legs. “I want to bake, yes. But with you.”

“With me?”

“Hmhm.”

“That is a variation from our usual Thursday nights, sure.”

“Hmhm.”   
Stiles’ smile softens, and he slides his hands up Derek’s back before he can cup his face to pull him into a kiss. “You’re really a sweet wolf.”

“Just for you.”

“Hmhm.”

(Turns out, Cora must have been right. The cookies are perfect this time, if a little bit overcooked, but it’s all Stiles’ fault.)


End file.
